


outside interference

by simplycarryon



Category: Pyre (Video Game)
Genre: bloodshed is forbidden in the rites, but nobody thought to ban puns, this is short and ridiculous idk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-31
Updated: 2017-08-31
Packaged: 2018-12-22 00:16:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11955717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simplycarryon/pseuds/simplycarryon
Summary: Sometimes, you make your own luck.





	outside interference

The match is going badly, and you feel the impending loss in your bones, a leaden numbness that grows colder every time the Accusers douse your pyre a little further. 

You focus your intent on your Book, on your triumvirate; you will yourself to retain your purpose, to remember the people who strive on the field in your name. 

"Are you well, my girl?" Volfred asks, as another strike to your dwindling flame plunges you back into the cold nothing. A mere fraction of a second, but the effort of returning blurs your vision and makes your head spin. He steadies you instantly, one arm behind your shoulders; you sink into his solid presence and try to remind your lungs how to breathe. 

When you can draw breath enough to speak, you protest halfheartedly that you're fine, and you reach for your Book. You will see this through, however it ends for you, but—

Volfred holds the Book out of your reach, like an adult holding a toy over a petulant child. 

And you pout. Damn the Sap for being so much taller than you. 

"This Rite will not set us back if the Accusers take it," he says, more gently than you expect. "What _will_ set us back is our Reader suffering banishment sickness. So please, my girl, do not push yourself so hard that you come to harm for it." 

You think on the brief and infinite nothing, and reluctantly nod. Perhaps when the match is over, you can ask Sandra for suggestions on building your tolerance, for keeping yourself grounded in the midst of the blows that banish your teammates—but for now, you must return your mind to the Rite, for good or ill. 

When you can stand without shaking, Volfred passes your Book back to you, but you don't focus your waning strength on it just yet. Instead, you look out over the field below you, watching your exiles fight to keep their pyre burning. The Accusers face them with a fury you have not seen in them before, driven now by the victory at hand. 

You cup your hands around your mouth and shout. 

"ACCUSERS!" 

All three of them turn to stare at you, incredulous at your irreverence. 

And Rukey barks a laugh and darts between Lendel's legs, plunging into the orange-gold flame of their pyre. 

You can hear Lendel's snarl of displeasure even from your place over the field, and you afford yourself a tiny smile. 

"LOOKS LIKE YOU'RE GETTING DISTRACTED!" you cry. "WANT ME TO _LEND-EL_ YOU A HAND?" 

Lendel tears off his mask to shout back something furious and profanity-spiked, and Mae dives over his head and into the flame. 

Somewhere to your left, Ti'zo cackles.


End file.
